Happy Christmas, With Love, The Winchesters
by Wholocked221
Summary: (First One-Shot of a series, Happy Christmas, With Love) It's Christmas at the bunker, but Dean wants to go on a Christmas hunt. Sam obliges, as long as he can keep his hat. Kevin's wrapped the presents, and Cas is the angel. When Sam and Dean return late, it's time for burgers and a Christmas poem, written by Dean Winchester, your's truly. (T For Language)


**AN: Just an SPN oneshot of a fluffy Christmas! Destiel and Sabriel, towards the end. Hope you enjoy! Happy Christmas! Or, you know, Hannakah if you're Jewish, I wouldn't want to offend anyone. I do not own Supernatural, just saying.**

Sam knew something was up when on Christmas Eve Dean came in with a grin on his face, his phone in one hand, and three plastic bags in the other. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Sam remarked, closing the lid of his laptop, his game of Galaga pausing. Dean crossed the living room and dropped his bags on the coffee table. Dean grinned again as he looked his younger brother up and down. He was dressed normally in a checkered long-sleeved shirt and jeans, but there was a Santa hat on his chestnut hair. Sam saw Dean's eyes narrow slightly when he noticed the hat. His head moved back slightly in mild confusion. "Cas," Sam answered to his brother's questioning look.

"Okay, well, either way," Dean continued, "I've found a ghost, yeah. Guy called Christopher Kringle. Weird, I know, right at Christmas but..." Dean looked at his brother, and his grin returned. "Please, Sam, can we go? It'll be fun. Like a Christmas _vacation_." Sam laughed. "_Vacation?_ Salting and burning someone's bones while probably being followed by a pissed off spirit is a vacation?" Dean nodded eagerly. "Come on, Sammy. One last hunt. It'll take a few hours. I've already got the guy's grave address." He lifted up his phone. The mobile flew out of his hands and cracked against the ground. Sam burst out laughing at the look on Dean's face when the phone slipped away. The older Winchester scooped the phone back up and dropped it in his pocket. "Either way, I've got the address. C'mon, Sammy, please," Dean added.

Sam sighed. "Fine. Okay, we'll go burn the dude's bones." He stood up, leaving his laptop on the coffee table. "I'm keeping the hat, though." Dean grinned. "Yes! Thank you, Sammy!" He raised his voice and shouted. "CAS! KEVIN!" he shouted. Sam flinched. "Jeez, Dean! Lower your voice!" Dean ignored Sam at Cas and Kevin's confirmations. "WHAT DO YOU WANT, DEAN?" Kevin shouted back, whereas Cas - dressed in a Metallica t-shirt and Batman pajama bottoms - appeared at the entrance to the living room. "You called, Dean?"

The bunker was decorated very sparsely this year. Air fresheners in the shape of trees were hung at strange intervals throughout the rooms, one even on the corner of the TV and the handle of the toilet. They had a Christmas tree, but it was small one. More like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree then a real tree. The poor thing, barely 2 feet tall, was loosing its pine needles all of the floor and was planted in a plastic bucket because Dean didn't feel like going out and buying a tree stand and their last one broke. It was decorated with car fresheners colored in with red and green sharpies, a few fishing bobbers and lures hanging on it. As a topper, Dean had insisted they take a picture of Cas and glue it onto the bare top of the tree. _I don't see why I have to be on top of the tree,_ Cas had protested, confused, when Dean had topped the tiny tree. Dean laughed while Sam and Kevin were trying their best to hold back peels of laughter at Castiel's confusion. The reinstated angel still didn't quite get some things.

A few presents graced the bucket with there presents, leaned up against them by Sam in an effort to make it look at least a little bit better. They had tags like _To Sam, From Dean _and _To Kevin, From Cas._ Sam cast a glance at their puny tree and smiled faintly before striding to the door. Dean looked at Cas with a grin and crossed the room the other way, towards Cas. "Love the pants, man. Sammy and I are going out on a quick hunt. We'll be back in a few hours, tops." Cas nodded. "I will see you then, Dean." Cas leaned over and brushed a kiss on Dean's lips. "I love you."

"Ditto," Dean responded, before shouting the message back at Kevin.

ooooOoOoOoooo

It was 5 hours later when the Winchesters returned. Sam, yes, still had the Santa hat on his chestnut hair. "CAS, KEV, WE'RE BACK!" he shouted again. Sam flinched once more and Dean's voice. "Dean, cut it out," he complained, punching his right shoulder with his good arm. Sam and Dean had been caught, ish, while burning the bones. They'd peeled out of the graveyard quickly. The land was very hilly, and Sam had not made it across without tripping. Crossing into the forest bordering the graveyard, the younger Winchester tripped on a tree root, tumbling down a hill, hurting his arm. After escaping the old man with a pitchfork at the graveyard, Dean had taken Sam to the E.R, where they'd had to wait for an hour before getting his arm X-rayed, which took another hour to do. Dean, personally, didn't see how it took that long. It was broken, they told the pair, and it had taken yet another hour which had begun to irritate the moose to plastering it with a red and green cast. They'd finally left the hospital at somewhere around 10 at night.

"We're right here, Dean," Cas commented. He and the Prophet had been lounging on the couch watching cruddy TV movies while waiting for the Winchesters to return. Both of the pair were about to inquire about their extended absence, but eyes roaming over Sam's casted arm, they figured out themselves. "What happened?" Kevin asked instead. Dean snorted, tossing his keys back to their original spot. Sam slumped down in a chair as Dean explained. "We kinda sorta got caught burning the bones at the graveyard and Sam _tripped_ and _broke his arm_ when we were running away." Kevin and Cas synchronizedly turned and looked at Sam in the armchair. "Really?" Kevin said incredulously. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sam sighed. The three glanced at each other, back at Sam in his cartoonishly colored red-and-green cast, then back at each other. Almost at the exact same time, they all burst out laughing, Dean doubling over. "Hey!" Sam protested. The slightly disapproving, embarresed look on Sam's face caused the trio to laugh harder.

When they'd finally stopped, Dean, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, stumbled over to the kitchen. "All I've had since, like, noon were some peanut butter crackers. Who's up for burgers?"

"Cas and I had macaroni while you guys were gone but I'm up for 'em," Kevin responded. Sam perked up slightly at the mention of food. "Yeah, I'm up for burgers," he said. He was starving too.

Plus, Dean made _really _good burgers.

ooooOoOoOoooo

"Okay, my children," Dean said in a mocking, slightly feminine voice. "Storytime before we go to bed!" Sam snorted. He was rather tired, though. He knocked back another two painkillers as Kevin laughed slightly and Cas dropped into a chair next to Dean.

_"Twas the night before Christmas, a__nd all through the bunker,_

_Not a creature was stirring, n__ot even a moose who broke his arm tripping on a tree._

_The salt was layed along the windows with care, _

_In hopes that no demons soon would be there. _

_The Prophet, Mr. Comatose, the ex-blood junkie, and the dropout with 6 bucks to his name were nestled all snug in their beds except Mr. Comatose who was on the couch,_

_While visions of monsters danced in their heads._

_Mr. Comatose in his trenchcoat and I in my socks_

_Had just got done watching a chick flick which he made me watch while I then kicked him out of our room. _

_When out on the yard there arose such a ruckus,_

_ I jumped out of bed and grabbed the demon knife. _

_Away to the window I flew like a flash._

_Hoping not mess up the salt line._

_The moon on the lumps of grass _

_Gave the luster of blood on the grass below._

_When what to my wondering eyes should appear, _

_but Gabriel the archangel and a cherry lollipop._

_With a mess of curls all blonde and... curly,_

_I knew it must be the little S.O.B._

_More rapid then eagles that smirk it did come,_

_My boyfriend's father, I really don't like that guy._

_As blades of grass in a supernatural windstorm fly,_

_I don't even really know what this means._

_So into my living room that archangel flew_

_With his cherry-red sucker too._

_"GABRIEL WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE" I yelled_

_When my hands closed around his throat, "I've come to give you some news" he yelped._

_He was dressed all in clothes from his head to his foot_

_And his face was clean which it wouldn't be if he didn't get out of my living room. _

_That God-forsaken sucker he had clenched in his hand_

_Was red like the fire because I still have left-over holy oil._

_"What is your news, you S.O.B," I yelled again._

_"Let me talk and I'll tell you I swear," he said with a forced grin._

_The smirk reached his eyes, jeez, it irritated me._

_"I am going to murder you," I commented, letting him go._

_"Okay I thought you might want to know," he began_

_As the ex-blood junkie, Mr. Comatose, and the Prophet came out from their rooms._

_"I'm banging your brother._

_I think I'm going to go."_

_I spoke not a word but when straight to his neck_

_I'm really going to kill him._

_"Cas get the holy oil," I growled in spite_

_As Gabriel yelped trying to pull himself out of my grip._

_He pulled from my arms and his wings gave a flutter_

_"Cas go get the holy oil," I yelled again._

_But I heard Gabe exclaim as he flew out of sight,_

_"Happy Christmas to all, and please don't kill me Dean!"_

It was going to be a pretty good Christmas after all.


End file.
